Okay. So nobody is going to mistake Elsa from Frozen for Andrea Dworkin. But we can at least agree that Disney's princesses have moved on from being helpless house fraus in waiting. Sadly, this new princess movie from the Wachowski siblings – yes, you read that right – is a setback for sparkly tiaras everywhere.
For most of the run time of Jupiter Ascending, Mila Kunis's Jupiter Jones is falling, only to be rescued by Channing Tatum's intergalactic dreamboat in anti-gravity rocket skates. Our damsel-in-distress is kidnapped, in rapid succession, by three warring royal siblings . . . only to be rescued by Channing Tatum's intergalactic dreamboat. And so on.
A useless girl version of The Matrix's Neo, Jupiter is introduced to us as a lavatory-cleaning Russian émigré who hates her life. We know this because she says "I hate my life" over and over.
When one of Jupiter's shady extended family suggests that she sells her ovum (the depiction of Russians here makes one yearn for the comparatively enlightened mobsters of Taken 3), she is almost kidnapped by standard-issue grey aliens . . . only to be rescued by Channing Tatum's intergalactic dreamboat.
It transpires that Jupiter is not just a lackey with a loo brush; she is, in fact, The One. No, wait. In fact, she’s the reincarnation of a queen whose race seeded planets like our Earth with humans, only to be harvested at a later date to manufacture an age-defying moisturising cream. And so Jupiter is nabbed by various members of the ruling Abrasax clan as they squabble over the inheritance rights to Earth.
First up is Tuppence Middleton, who puts Jupiter in a pretty frock. Then comes Douglas Booth, who puts our useless heroine in an even prettier frock and tries to marry her. And finally along comes current Oscar nominee Eddie Redmayne, who just wants to do her in.
Between messy pixelated chase scenes and rescues and dinosaur men, there are longueurs to rival the dullest bits of The Matrix sequels, all culled from other movies. A lengthy Brazil sequence comes replete with a Terry Gilliam cameo. Sit tight and there's an actual Hawkman dive.
At its best, this is silly fun that curtseys early and often toward Mike Hodge's vastly superior Flash Gordon. At its worst, there is dialogue. Terrible, horrible dialogue.
Who knew before this film’s attempts at romantic exchanges between Tatum and Kunis that it was actually possible to talk out of tune? They sure are pretty, though.
